The Monster's Souvenir
by ShanaBaby00
Summary: When Hermione gets kidnapped by none other than Lucius Malfoy, she has to try and keep it together. This gets harder to do when Lucius "gives" her over to his son as a gift. Will she ever be rescued? Post-OOTP. AU. LM/HG and DM/HG.
1. Finally Awake

A/N: I Know I'm working on another story as well right now, but after I made my video "Monster" (look it up on YouTube, ShanaBaby00) I couldn't get the idea for this fanfic out of my head. I'll try my best to work on both!

**WARNING: CONTENT WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. IT'S RATED M FOR A REASON!**

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**The Monster's Souvenir: Chapter One**

_Where am I?_

Hermione Granger forced her eyes open through the heavy grit that had formed on them.

It was dark. Obscenely dark. She lifted her hand so it was in front of her eyes by mere centimeters. She saw only blackness.

_How long have I been out?_

She attempted to sit up, but an agonizing pain in her head ordered her to lie back down. Confused, scared, and in pain, Hermione had no idea where she was, or how she was going to escape.

"Finally awake, are you?" said a voice that Hermione instantly recognized as belonging to Lucius Malfoy.

She felt emotion surge through her. Anger, perhaps? If it was anger, then why did she feel like she was about to cry?

"ANSWER ME!" Malfoy shouted at her.

Suddenly, the darkness disappeared and Hermione could see where she was. It looked like she was in a tall stone cylinder. There were no windows, no doors, and no cracks along the walls. Knowing whether or not it was night or day was impossible.

"Yes..." She answered, surprised at how weak her own voice was. Hermione was searching everywhere for Lucius Malfoy. He wasn't anywhere in the small, closed space.

_Where could he be?_

"Didn't your filthy muggle parents teach you to stand when addressing someone more important than you?" The voice asked in a cold drawl.

Hermione wanted to rebel against him. She wanted to scream at him and demand he set her free. However, as of now, she had no wand, and even if she was armed, she'd have no way to know where to aim her spells. Not to mention, as much as she hated to admit it, Lucius Malfoy was likely her only way out.

Reluctantly, hating herself on the inside, Hermione sat up, trying hard to ignore the searing pain in the back of her head. She stood on shaky legs, bracing herself against the cold stone wall.

She wasn't surprised when she felt warm liquid running down her neck.

"Yes, that's more like it," he began, but Hermione, suddenly feeling brave, cut him off.

"Where am I?" She asked to the stone wall in front of her. She may not know where Lucius Malfoy was hiding, but she did know that he could hear her.

"That is none of your concern!" He spat at her, his anger elevating the volume of his voice. It bounced off the walls, echoing his cold and unfeeling. "Rest assured, though, you are safely hidden."

_Safe? With you? Hardly._

"I'm bleeding." It was the only response Hermione could think of. She didn't want to think of the possibility of being trapped in this stone tube forever. How would she live? Another thought suddenly came to her: What if she wasn't supposed to live?

Suddenly, Lucius apparated with a pop into the cylinder with her. She reared against the wall, not wanting him anywhere near her. He forcibly took her and yanked her by the hair, causing her to yelp in pain. He smiled.

_I hate that smile. I hate everything about that smile. What does he even want with me? What did I ever do to him?_

"Look at me," he ordered. Hermione held on to her last shred of dignity and didn't oblige. Instead, she looked to the wall over his shoulder.

He took her jaw in his right hand, keeping the left firmly attached to her scalp and hair. He held her jaw with such force Hermione was sure it would break. He made her look into his eyes. His blue, cold, disgusting eyes.

"You belong to me now," He said, relishing in the fear in her eyes. "You'll never see your filthy muggle parents ever again. You'll never see Hogwarts ever again. Mudblood, you'll never see the light of day ever again."

How could he have said that so casual? How could those horrible words mean absolutely nothing to him?

Hermione never considered herself as religious, but if she was ever sure that there was, indeed, a devil, his name was Lucius Malfoy.

_You're a monster._

Hermione would never know what gave her the bravery to do what she did next. She was never before so sure that being sorted into Gryffindor was the right thing as she spat in Lucius' face, both loving the way he reacted to it by letting her go and rearing back, and also dreading the inevitable consequences that would be short in coming.

"Who do you think you are, you Mudblood bitch?!" He shouted at her. His face was an unhealthy color of red, and unlike Hermione, he was armed with a wand.

Levitating an object is simple. Actually, it is so simple that it's the first charm you learn at Hogwarts. Just say Wingardium Leviosa and you have yourself a floating feather, pillow, quill, or anything else for that matter. However, the levitation charm did not seem simple in the least as Lucius Malfoy was hurling Hermione's back into the stone wall again and again and again. By the time he was finished, Hermione was screaming for mercy without even realizing it.

Finally he dropped her, bruised and bleeding, to the ground. She curled into a ball, unable to function or speak or even think properly. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess; bits and pieces of thoughts never coming together to complete themselves.

_Pain…hurt…blood…Malfoy…monster._

"Did that hurt?" He asked condescendingly and with mock concern, knowing full well the answer he would receive.

"Yes..." Hermione whispered, closing her eyes as though it would shut out the terrible, immobilizing pain that was radiating all over her body.

"Mudblood, you haven't even begun to experience pain yet," he said, looking at her like she was the most vile, disgusting thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

Hermione was crying, she knew she was, but she refused to let Malfoy see that.

_I will not give him what he wants from me. He can kick me; treat me like a rag doll. He can do anything he wants to me here but he will never, never control me. I will not break._

Hermione's leg twitched involuntarily and Hermione noticed that the pain was gone. She looked to Malfoy for answers. Was this what he would continue to do? Cause massive amounts of pain and then take it away?

_He's a monster! An evil, inbred, Death Eater, MONSTER!_

He knew why she was looking at him. Hermione could tell when his lip curled into a smirk. She vowed to herself that she'd someday wipe that smirk off of his face.

"I want you to be fully aware of your body, Mudblood. It won't be any fun if you're not."

_What won't be any fun? Oh, Gods, he couldn't possibly mean_—

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lucius took her by the hair again, dragging her across the floor and ignoring Hermione's yelps and cries of protest. He forced her down on the ground, and his fumbling right hand finally reached the buttons on Hermione's shirt.

Her buttons proved difficult for Lucius (Hermione wasn't complaining) seeing as how he was working with one hand while concentrating on keeping a firm, painful grip on Hermione's scalp with the other. His wand was tucked in a pocket of his trousers.

_If I could just reach it…_

Hermione did reach out, but Lucius noticed and yanked her further back by the hair, causing an entire handful to be ripped from Hermione's scalp. Another pained yelp was all she could muster.

Finally Lucius managed to unbutton her entire shirt. After he did that, getting her skirt and stockings off was easy. Soon enough, Hermione was on the cold, stone ground, completely naked. She had been kidnapped for God-knows-what reason, she had been bruised, hurt, and now she was about to be raped.

Lucius undid his trousers. Hermione couldn't bear to watch. But of course, Lucius forced her to. Just as he was about to enter, Hermione reared away, doing anything she could to keep him away from her.

"Do you know how many women would pay to sleep with me for one night?! And YOU! You FILTHY, DISGUSTING, MUDBLOOD WHORE! YOU rear away, like you have ANY right to decide! Do you know how many women would throw themselves at my feet?!" He shouted, again trying to forcefully enter her.

"WOULD THEY THROW THEIR DAUGHTERS AT YOUR FEET?!" She screamed, with all the fury she could muster. It still came out strangled from her tightened throat. Tears were easily flowing down her face.

Lucius stopped cold.

He pulled away and re-zipped his trousers. For a moment, Hermione could have fainted with relief. She knew better than to think he'd let her go, but at least he wasn't going to rape her.

"You gave me an excellent idea, Mudblood," he said, a cruel smile playing about his face. Any feeling of relief that Hermione had felt a moment ago had vanished, and now all she could wonder was what horrible things he'd do to her next.

_You monster… _

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**To be continued.**

**Reviews would be lovely, thanks3**


	2. Plans for the Mudblood

A/N: WOW! Nearly 200 hits on the first day! I had never imagined that this story would be such a success! Your response inclined me to write more, and so here is the second chapter. Surprisingly, this chapter was harder to write than the first, even though Lucius doesn't try anything nearly as vile as rape. But trying to get his evil, vindictive personality on paper is really difficult! I have the utmost respect for JKR. Anyways, enjoy this chapter!

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**The Monster's Souvenir: Chapter Two**

The look in Lucius' eyes was dangerous. Actually, it was more than dangerous. He was looking at Hermione's still-nude body the way a lion that hadn't eaten in 6 days would look at a raw steak. She was prey; HIS prey.

"Get dressed," he ordered, deliberately making no effort to look away from Hermione's figure as she did as she was told.

_Disgusting, arrogant bastard. _

When she was finished, Hermione reveled in her once-ordinary school uniform. It wasn't just a uniform now, she told herself, it was a piece of home, and a piece of her friends. She wasn't sure if she'd ever see either one again. When she noticed the way Lucius was glaring at her breasts, she reminded herself that her uniform was also a shield.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Somehow, Hermione hadn't noticed Lucius take out his wand while she was thinking about her school uniform. The body-bind worked lightning quick, causing her entire body to fail her and become stiff as a board.

_Please, PLEASE stay up, body. Don't fall!_

No matter how she wished she could stay upright, she overbalanced and fell, face-first, to the stone floor. Her nose broke the fall, and with a terrible crack and searing pain, Hermione knew it was broken and bleeding. She also knew that Lucius didn't care.

He laughed.

"I'll be leaving now. Wouldn't want the Ministry of Magic to suspect me at all when they notice you've turned up missing. I'll even be as kind as to turn you over," he said coldly, and kicked Hermione in the ribs, causing her rigid body to roll over.

The stone floor on her back felt cool and inviting, but the oxygen hitting her broken nose was more than painful.

"Didn't your filthy muggle parents teach you to say thank you when someone does you a kindness?" He spat.

_Here he goes about my "filthy muggle parents" again._

Hermione would be happy to oblige if it meant relieving her pain, or even making sure that he did not cause her more, but she couldn't speak. Lucius KNEW she couldn't speak. After all, he had been the one who placed her in the full body bind. He was looking for reasons to torture her, and Hermione knew it.

"Disobedience again, Mudblood? Surely you learned your lesson the first time." He kicked her again, swiftly in her gut. She was oddly thankful she couldn't make a sound, Hermione wasn't sure she could take hearing the strangled noise her own body would have made.

"I'll be back for you… Eventually." Lucius smirked, and with a pop, he disapparated, leaving Hermione all alone in the prison cell. Also, the light had once again disappeared.

Hermione didn't know whether to be relieved that he was gone or feel completely claustrophobic and alone. All that she knew was that she was in awful amounts of pain, felt nauseous from that kick to the stomach, and had absolutely no idea what happened if a person vomited while in a full body bind.

_Maybe I'd choke on my own vomit like a drunken man would. I've read about that happening in the muggle newspapers… They always say to turn your friend's head so that wouldn't happen._

Hermione couldn't turn her head, but she was half-inclined to vomit and drown herself with it, if only it meant alleviating her pain and making it so she didn't have to see that monster-of-a-man Lucius Malfoy ever again.

_No. He won't break me. I won't give him that pleasure._

Hermione didn't know exactly how long had passed since Lucius had disapparated, but she knew she was ravenously hungry. Of course, she wasn't as hopeful as to believe that Lucius would bring food with him when he returned, but it was something nice to think about. Normally, Hermione didn't believe in optimistic thoughts over logical ones, but this was a completely different situation.

After she had thought about food for a while, she decided that it was making her even hungrier than before and tried to keep her mind off of it. Instead, she thought of various scenarios in which she was rescued. Some involved Harry and Ron, somehow breaking into the prison cell and taking her away and back to Hogwarts, to her nice, warm, four-poster bed.

Some of the scenarios portrayed Order Members swarming the place like they did in the Department of Mysteries, disarming and cursing Lucius and taking Hermione back to Headquarters where she'd get a well-deserved rest.

_If only…_

Lucius returned as promised, again turning on the light. Hermione noted that he had changed clothes, and his gloves looked newly-pressed.

Even through a broken nose, she could barely smell the spicy aroma of a good stew. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably at the thought of food.

To her surprise, Lucius lifted the full body bind on her and used the same spell on her that had vanished her pain before. He also fixed her broken nose.

He conjured a bowl out of thin air, and he held it and filled it with some sort of oatmeal-like substance from the tip of his wand. Hermione could tell by the smell that it was edible, and now that her pain was gone and all her senses were focused on her empty stomach, she didn't care whether or not it was something she'd eat on a regular basis.

After he had finished conjuring the stuff, he dropped the bowl to the ground. It shattered. The oatmeal-like stuff that was in it was oozing slowly across the dirty stone floor.

"Oops," he said unconvincingly.

Hermione knew what he was doing. She knew that he wanted to humiliate her; to make her eat off of the floor like the animal he thought she was. Hermione wanted to rebel, wanted to turn her back to the food, but it was like her stomach had a mind of its own.

Before she knew it, she was leaning down on all fours, lapping the stuff off of the ground like a dog. It had a rough texture and hardly any flavor but it was FOOD, and food had never before been so sacred.

"You're vile and disgusting," Lucius said with distaste, waving his wand and making the food disappear. If Hermione had known she wasn't going to be able to finish the food, she would have rebelled in the first place! She was angry, and felt as though she had been slapped in the face yet again.

To Hermione's surprise, Lucius conjured an apple and tossed it at her. She ate it greedily, her ravenous hunger not allowing for thoughts such as "You should save some of this for later."

Later Lucius might put her back in a full body bind. Later he might conjure more food for her anyway.

Never once did she think: _Later I might escape this place. _

"I do have plans for you, Mudblood," he said nonchalantly. Hermione was so focused on the sweet food in front of her that she barely paid attention to what he was saying.

"You see," he continued, obviously oblivious to his lack of an audience, or if he was aware that she wasn't listening, he didn't care. "Draco could use a new pet."

The apple rolled across the floor as Hermione sat, mouth agape and completely taken aback, on the cold stone floor of her tiny prison cell.

_This can't be happening! _

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**To Be Continued.**

**Reviews of any kind (positive or constructive) are much appreciated! Thanks!**


	3. Belongings

**A/N: Sorry for the semi-long time since updating. I honestly tried to write for Bloodlust, but my mind cannot focus on writing anything but this story. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I know I made both Draco and Narcissa slightly out-of-character, but it is how I portrayed them throughout JKR's wonderful series. Now, on with the chapter!**

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**The Monster's Souvenir: Chapter Three**

"Take my arm, Mudblood."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. She was still too stunned to speak, but she would make it very clear to Lucius Malfoy that she wouldn't be given to _anyone. _Especially not his son.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her. "You want to stay here and rot, then?"

_No, of course not. _

Lucius took her by the scalp, ripping another large chunk of hair out. The pain made Hermione gasp. "ANSWER ME," he ordered.

"No," Hermione said through the tears clouding her eyes.

_Stop crying! Don't let him see you cry!_

"No, what?" He asked in a condescending tone, fully aware that Hermione was, as of now, his puppet, whether she would admit it or not.

_No, I don't want to stay here. No, I don't want to go with you. No, I don't want to die. No, I don't want to be Malfoy's pet. No, I don't know what I did to deserve this. Take your pick._

"No, I don't want to stay here," she said, with all the disdain she could possibly muster.

Her answer was enough, and suddenly the uncomfortable sensation of apparation overtook her. Normally, Hermione would voice her opinion about how much she disliked feeling like she was being squeezed through a tight rubber tube, but she kept her mouth firmly shut.

She opened her eyes after she was sure that her feet were once again firmly on the ground, only to find that she was in a brightly decorated room. The thought that Lucius Malfoy had a cheerfully decorated room made her stomach lurch.

_A complete charade, all of it._

"NARCISSA!" He called suddenly, causing Hermione to jump beside him. It didn't go unnoticed.

"A bit jumpy are we?" He asked just as he wife entered the room. At the sight of Hermione, she gasped.

"Lucius what is this?" She asked, her eyes roaming up and down Hermione, stopping momentarily on her injuries.

"Draco has a new pet," he said with a cruel smirk. He pushed Hermione forward by the back of the neck towards his wife for closer inspection. The look on Narcissa's face worried Hermione deeply. Just what exactly had happened to Draco's last pet?

"Since he is still at school for another day, I thought you could make her presentable in that time," he continued.

_Another day? Oh, is it the break for the Holidays tomorrow? I've been gone for nearly a week then. I must have been unconscious for a while…_

"Of course.." She said hesitantly, stepping forward and taking Hermione gently by the arm. Being out of Lucius' company was a relief, and Hermione knew that Narcissa wasn't GOOD, but she couldn't be nearly as bad as her husband, right?

Narcissa led her down a long, ornately decorated hallway and into a room that looked to be her chambers. Hermione wondered why Narcissa and Lucius would have separate rooms, and then she reminded herself that no one would want to share a room with him.

She sat her down in front of a vanity and Hermione gasped at her own reflection.

_No, that can't be me. Leave it to the Malfoy family to have a trick mirror._

She looked over her reflection's shoulder and saw that Narcissa looked exactly the same. It really, really was her.

Hermione could now see the evidence of her kidnapping. She had bruises on her face and both of her eyes were blackened, from lack of sleep or injury Hermione didn't know. Large chunks of hair were missing, leaving bloody scalp exposed and making Hermione feel nauseous. Her nose had dried blood under it from where it had been broken, but since Lucius had fixed the nose itself, it looked the same as before.

Hermione probably would have examined herself further, but suddenly the mirror clouded over, making it impossible for her to see herself. She probably also would have asked Narcissa why, if her face hadn't suddenly started to feel ticklish.

The once-pleasant sensation of being tickled made Hermione jump in a cowardly manner. Had she really changed so much over the course of one week?

Hermione feared that her Gryffindor bravery had fled somewhere between waking in the dark and nearly being raped.

In a moment's time the tickling subsided and was replaced with an unpleasant feeling; a mixture of pain and itching on Hermione's scalp. She daren't move to look at Narcissa's face, which she was sure looked as grave and serious as ever, because she was afraid that she would upset some sort of magical balance, for clearly this vanity was, indeed, magical.

After the mixed feeling of itching and pain, her hair suddenly started to move on it's own, forming itself into perfect ringlets. In a fleeting thought, Hermione was oddly envious of the magic vanity, because for the Yule Ball, the sleek ringlets Hermione had fashioned took hours, and she was sure they didn't look nearly as perfect as the ones that the vanity made in seconds.

The mirror began to become clear again just as her hair pulled itself into a sort of half-bun that looked all-too-formal for the occasion. At her own reflection, Hermione gasped yet again.

_This isn't me. I'm not beautiful like that._

Her bruised pale face looked suddenly clean and even and her lips were suddenly the perfect shade of pink. Her eyes had been lined and painted with silvery eye-paint and some sort of makeup that made her lashes look impossibly long and full.

The ringlets were, indeed, perfect; framing her face in dark brown tendrils that shined like silk, even in the artificial light that lit Naricssa's bed chambers.

Once, when she was very young, her mother that had bought Hermione a beautiful porcelain doll for her Birthday. She had instantly fallen in love with the doll's pale skin, her perfectly rosey cheeks and her beautiful blue eyes. To top it off, she had perfect, blonde ringlets that went to her shoulders and were adorned with beads and pearls and all sorts of beautiful gems that matched her Victorian-style dress.

Hermione named the doll Belle, a name she was quite fond of, even now. She would spend hours at a time in her room, playing with her beautiful doll, imagining that one day her hair would be as pretty; that she would be as beautiful.

Now, looking at herself in the mirror, Hermione touched her face with a tentative nostalgic longing, thinking only of Belle, the doll that had long since become worn and tattered. She decided that when, or if, she got to return home, she'd buy a new doll that looked exactly like her once-beloved Belle.

"You look wonderful dear," Narcissa said quietly, breaking Hermione's train of thought. It was the first genuinely nice thing she had heard since she had woke up in the prison cell.

"Thank you.." she said, still unable to take her eyes off of her reflection. She glanced over her reflection's shoulder and looked at Narcissa's face. She looked grave, her pale blue eyes shined with unexplained sadness and regret, and Hermione pitied the woman who was forced to be with the man who had ruined her life.

_She's had to live with that monster for years… I'm ready to die after a week._

Narcissa went to a nightstand and opened the drawer, taking out her wand. She conjured something that looked like a blue ribbon. She made her way back to Hermione, the luxurious plush carpet (that surprisingly was not green and/or silver) muffling her approaching footsteps.

She tied the length of blue silk around Hermione's neck like a choker, being surprisingly gentle in the way she handled Hermione, which only reinforced her fears that she wasn't Draco's first pet.

To Hermione's dismay, she used to wand to conjure something else. A charm suddenly appeared on the ribbon. It took Hermione a moment to decipher the words on the circular charm because in the mirror they appeared backwards.

Once she had deciphered them, however, she wished she hadn't. The silver charm had only four words written on it in absolute perfect calligraphy:

_**Property of Draco Malfoy**_

The thought that she was Draco's _property _made her want to scream at the top of her lungs, but all she could do was stare dumbly at Narcissa, who tried her best to smile at the girl.

She was suddenly handed a very heavy blue dress and was told to change into it. Draco would apparently be home tomorrow night, but she had to look the part of his "pet" even now.

She reminded herself even more of the porcelain doll named Belle as she somehow maneuvered her way into the overly-voluminous corset-dress while standing in a bathroom.

_Honestly! It's the twentieth century and they expect me to wear this awful, old fashioned_—

Even her thoughts were interrupted when she saw herself in the full length mirror.

_Completely, stunningly, beautiful dress…_

Hermione smiled for the first time in a week, despite the awfulness of the situation.

"That will do for dinner tomorrow," she heard Narcissa say behind her, before handing her a much lighter and decidedly more comfortable blue cotton dress to change into.

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Draco didn't say a word to anyone on the train ride home for the Holidays: not to Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and not even to taunt Potter or Weasley, which had become considerably less fun after Granger had turned up missing.

Granger was exactly the reason he wasn't speaking. It wasn't that he cared for the mudblood, because after all, he didn't even know her and was superior to her by birthright. He did, however, have a sinking feeling that his father was somehow involved in her disappearance, and he'd be sure to hear about it tonight.

"Draco! Are you even listening to me?!" Pansy shrieked near his left ear. He scowled in her direction.

"No, and I'll give you two guesses why," he grumbled.

"Fine! Stay on the train then!" She said irritably, getting up and gathering her things before exiting the compartment in a highly moody fashion.

He looked out of the window and noticed that the train had stopped at King's Cross. He gathered his coat and trunk and made his way off of the train, not stopping to say anything to anyone. As usual, his father waited on the platform for him, a smirk upon his face.

He didn't speak to his father first, and instead waited for the truth about Granger to start pouring out of his mouth. He envisioned many different scenarios in which his father had "dealt" with Granger, all of which started with him taking her hostage and ended with a killing curse.

"I have a surprise for you," his father said as they started up toward the path of their manor.

_And here it begins._

"You have a new pet, Draco. One that will keep you company when your mother and I go to Aspen this year," he said, looking at his son with an unconvincing half-smile.

_Well, that was unexpected._

"Another owl? A snake?" Draco asked his father in a drawl, not trying to hide the fact that he was bored and sick of spending time with him already.

"No, something even better," Lucius said, a smirk playing about his face just as they walked through the front door and into the dining hall. It was tradition for Draco: a nice dinner tonight, as soon as he walked in the door, and then before he even woke up his parents had left him alone for the good part of two weeks while they were skiing in Aspen.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his new "pet" sitting at the dining room table. Hermione Granger, looking like she had just stepped out of a fairytale in her Victorian dress. He couldn't ignore the dead expression in her eyes, like her very soul was distancing itself from her own body.

He also couldn't ignore the collar around her neck, stating that she was, indeed, his property.

He watched as his father took out his wand and put her under the imperious curse, making her stand and approach Draco, and then bow like a servant at his feet. There was a pleasant unawareness in her eyes as she said to him: "I belong to you."

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**To be continued.**

**A/N2: Does anyone but me REALLY want a vanity like that? Ha. Anyways, reviews are greatly appreciated! I mean it! I throw a mini-party every time I get one.**


	4. Murderer

**A/N: Hey! All of your guys' reviews are so nice! I throw a mini-party every time I get one. They usually involve confetti and music by Justin Timberlake. ;D Anyways, here is the next chapter! Enjoy it!**

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**The Monster's Souvenir: Chapter Four**

Hermione had found out soon enough that the dress, as beautiful as it was, was a torture device in itself. She had no doubt in her mind that it was Lucius' idea to make her wear the horrid (yet beautiful) thing.

First of all, the fabric was very heavy and thick, allowing for it to become uncomfortably warm in a matter of minutes. Also, her chest was bound so tightly that every breath felt labored and forced, causing her to feel entirely lightheaded.

To make matters worse, Draco wasn't expected home until 6 in the evening, and she had been asked to put on the dress at noon, after she had eaten another bowl of the rough, tasteless oatmeal-like substance that she had been given before. (Fortunately, she hadn't had to lap it off the floor this time, but she wasn't allowed a spoon, not that she was surprised by that fact.)

After what seemed like ages, Draco returned home in the company of his father. They entered the dining room almost immediately. Hermione, who had luckily been allowed to sit at the table like a human being, saw the look on Draco's face when he saw her.

His pale blue eyes flickered with multiple emotions, each one changing too quickly to be indentified as a single one.

Suddenly, Hermione felt completely wonderful. A sense of complete, peaceful abandon overtook her, and she found herself standing in a way that was strangely involuntary. She felt her feet walking across the room, but all she could think about was her own happy state of mind. The way she was feeling now, though it couldn't be explained, felt even better than scoring perfect marks on a final exam.

Then she heard herself say it: "I belong to you."

Finally, the square peg of her unconditional bliss matched the round hole of her current situation, and Hermione realized that she was under the effects of the imperious curse.

Having no way to resist, Hermione let her body wander back to the chair she'd been assigned, trying to not panic and enjoy this brief moment of peace since she was not sure when she'd get another one like it.

And then the happy feeling ended, and Hermione resumed the feelings she'd become accustomed to: fear, sadness, pain, and hatred.

"See, Draco? It's very obedient already, but it still needs more training," Lucius said with a smirk. The fact that he'd called Hermione an "it" hadn't gone unnoticed, but she doubted that Draco cared.

"I'll have something to do over the holidays, then," he replied with a devilish smile, taking a seat next to his new pet. "I just hope _it's _toilet trained."

_He thinks he's so clever, doesn't he?_

Lucius chuckled so fakely that it was laughable. Of course, Hermione didn't laugh.

A tiny, elderly-looking house elf appeared at the table, snapping its fingers and making food appear on the plates. Hermione was given another bowl of the semi-edible substance and she drank from the bowl like it was a goblet, squashing the tinge of disappointment in her gut.

She knew better than to hope she'd be given real food tonight, anyway.

The others were eating something that appeared to be roast duck, quail maybe. Hermione didn't pretend to be an expert on what wealthy people ate. Still, the smell of roasted vegetables caused her stomach to clench, and she really wished she wasn't eating the whatever-it-was that was in her bowl.

Dinner seemed far too formal for just a family affair. Hermione expected there to be more talking, more joking, maybe more catching up involved, but hardly anyone spoke. She daren't looking at anything but her long-since empty bowl, so she wasn't sure if the family was even looking at each other.

_If this is Malfoy's home life, maybe we have been too hard on him._

The light tugging from around her neck where her collar hung made that fleeting thought evaporate faster than a drop of water hitting a hot skillet.

The sound of chair legs moving across the marble floors encouraged Hermione to finally look up, only to see the others standing. She followed suit, still not looking anyone in the eye. As far as she was concerned, she'd speak when spoken to.

_Already I'm acting like a good little pet. But I have to stay in their good graces. _

Lucius Malfoy had already used one Unforgivable Curse on Hermione- and she had a sinking feeling in her gut that he wouldn't object to using all three by the time he was done with her.

* * *

Draco stood and turned to his father. "May I be excused?" he asked.

His father nodded, and made a gesture towards Hermione. "She'll sleep in your quarters."

The thought of sharing a room with that _Mudblood, _that awful teacher's pet that had been hanging off of Potter's shoulder since first year made him cringe. He wanted to tell his father exactly where he could shove that bright idea of his, but instead only nodded curtly.

"Come, Mudblood," he said, in true Slytherin fashion. Surely his father would be proud.

She didn't say anything in response- she didn't even look him in the eye as she followed him. The only sounds that came from her throughout the entire trip were the rustling of fabric from her dress and the occasional sound of her silver tag hitting her collarbone.

A sudden wave of unexplained possessiveness came over him, and he stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel to look at his newest possession. Hermione, who had been looking intently at her feet, collided with him as he suddenly stopped.

"Watch it!" he snapped at her, suddenly furious. He turned back and kept walking until they reached his bed chambers.

* * *

The Slytherin colours of green, silver, and black dominated the overly large room. In Hermione's opinion, it was fairly generous to call it a bedroom when it could pass as an entire flat. All it needed was a kitchen, seeing as how there was already a living area, bed area, a bathroom and what looked to be an enormous walk-in closet.

Hermione was examining the king-sized bed, with its deep green and silver silk sheets and multiple overly-fluffed pillows when Draco suddenly shouted out something that sounded like complete nonsense.

"FELDA! TOGGY!"

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked quietly, but her question was answered when a pop sounded throughout the quiet bedroom, allowing for two house elves to appear and bow deeply, their long noses touching the floor.

"I need two blankets and a pillow for my new… _pet_," He said, saying the last word with careful and deliberate disdain.

As annoying as his passive-aggressive behaviors were, there was no doubt that Hermione preferred Draco's company to Lucius'.

"Yes, young master!" One piped up, snapping her fingers and producing what he had asked. The blankets she produced didn't look nearly as luxurious as the ones that were on Draco's bed. The fabric looked rough and homespun, and they were dingy white in color, creating a vast contrast from the rest of the room.

"Felda is most happy to sir young master Malfoy," she said, bowing again.

"Dismissed," Draco said casually, waving his hand in the elves' direction. For her own good, Hermione suppressed a snort at his air of superiority.

The house elves again bowed, and with a pop they disapparated, leaving the two alone in the room once again.

"I need to use your restroom," Hermione said quietly. Not only did she feel the need to relieve the ever-intensifying pressure on her bladder, but she frankly couldn't wait to change out of the voluminous dress she was wearing.

"Too bad," he replied, tossing the freshly-conjured blankets and pillow to her.

_Stay cool, Hermione. Don't snap at him, no matter how much he's asking for it._

"You want me to use a corner as a toilet, then?" She said flatly, not realizing that she was subconsciously imitating Lucius Malfoy's earlier methods of getting what he wanted. It seemed to work on Draco though, for his ivory pale face turned an unhealthy shade of scarlet.

"Fine, go!" He said irritably. Hermione left before he changed his mind.

She'd barely had time to relieve herself when Draco called her back, saying that she was taking entirely too long in the bathroom. By now he was wearing only his boxers and a thin t-shirt. Hermione was surprised to find his left arm unmarked. He sat at the foot up his bed, smirking with arrogance at the frustration he was causing.

_Fine! If he wants it like that, then I'll play along._

Hermione started untying the laces of the corset right in front of him, not caring whether or not he saw the thin camisole she wore beneath it. When she was finished, she turned around and pulled her arms through the sleeves, letting the dress fall around her feet, completely exposing her boy short underpants. Doing so also exposed a hideous amount of black, angry bruises that covered most of her legs and back.

* * *

Draco was going to snap at his new pet, telling her that the last thing he wanted to see was a Mudblood in her underwear, but his thoughts become a jumbled mess as soon as he saw the bruises.

He didn't need to ask how they were caused. He knew full well that his father had caused them somehow, and the nauseous feeling in his gut warned him that he didn't really care to know the finer details.

He watched as Hermione searched the puffy skirt of the dress, ultimately finding a cleverly-hidden pocket under the skirt and removing a thin cotton dress from it. She slipped it over her head without a word, and started to create a makeshift bed on the floor with the two blankets and pillows.

Less than twenty minutes later, the two were both laying silently in the dark with their eyes closed, though neither one of them were asleep. Draco adjusted his pillow and turned over in the hopes of being able to relax.

Another five minutes passed and he turned again.

And then again three minutes after that.

Finally, Hermione's voice broke the silence. "Your father is going to kill me, Draco." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. Both of them knew it, but Draco could swear there was a small plead in her voice, urging him to dismiss her fears. He'd never been accused of being completely honest, but now was not the time for petty sympathy.

"Yes, whenever I say I'm done with you," he confirmed, but the smugness in his voice was betrayed by a small shaking. He turned to look towards Hermione's bed on the floor.

"Spoilt and arrogant, maybe…" Hermione said to him, turning over to face him as well. Even in the darkness, Draco could see her eyes were wide open with fear, sorrow, and something that looked a lot like regret. "But I never pegged you for a murderer."

Those words were more sobering than any slap in the face, or any bucket of icy water could have ever been. He turned over again so he wasn't facing her. He couldn't stand to see the look in her eyes anymore.

"Go to sleep, Mudblood."

* * *

Hermione awoke early the next morning, with her eyes gritty and her bruised back aching from sleeping on the floor, but all in all, she felt better than she had in days. She accounted it to the amount of sleep she'd gotten the night before, which wasn't a lot, but more than she'd gotten with Lucius.

Even though she was awake, Draco's even breathing made her think that he wasn't, and she was loathe to move unless she absolutely had to. A brief moment of quiet was just what she needed to think of a way to escape Malfoy Manor with her life.

_If I could get a wand-up on Draco… but I could never take all three of them._

The thought of Crucio cast upon her by Lucius made her shudder.

A sudden squeak of Draco's mattress told her that she was awake. He made his way over to her bed on the floor and nudged his foot into her ribs. "Wake up already, you lazy bitch!"

"I was already awake!" She snapped back. "Excuse me for being quiet so I didn't wake you!"

Draco looked highly irritated. "I've been awake for nearly twenty minutes! We could've eaten breakfast ages ago!" He whined, before calling upon his house-elves again.

When the two small figures appeared with a pop, he ordered them to fetch himself and Hermione breakfast. "The usual," he had said. Hermione knew it was a long shot, but she still hoped that she would be given real food today.

The two were seated at a coffee table, both of them sitting on cushions on the floor, as though they were equals. The charm around her neck reminded her that they were not. Draco answered her prayers as a plate piled high with eggs, toast, and bacon appeared in front of her along with a tall glass of milk. She tried hard not to cry out in relief at the look of real food.

_Will he take it away like his father would?_

"For fuck's sake, Mudblood, don't have a heart attack. It's just breakfast, and I only gave it to you because I can't stand to see you eating house-elf food. It makes me want to vomit!"

"I was eating house-elf food?" She asked, though her words were muffled against a large mouthful of toast and eggs. She swallowed hard and took a large gulp of the milk. "What's it made out of?"

"Trust me, you really don't want to know," he said, grimacing at his still-full plate as though it were filled with cockroaches instead of delicious food.

Hermione tried to eat through her sudden nausea.

_Leave it to Lucius Malfoy to feed a human being house-elf food. Bastard._

"As long as my parents are in Aspen, you'll be eating human food."

Hermione tried her best to hide her surprise and joy that his parents had left them alone. Her chances at escaping had just skyrocketed.

_Malfoy isn't stupid, but I could out-smart him in my sleep._

* * *

Draco was bored, extremely bored. That's why he hadn't hesitated to say yes when the Mudblood suggested that they go ice-skating on the frozen pond behind his house. He gave Hermione a pair of his mother's old ice skates, got his own on, and they went outside into the bitter cold.

For a moment, he was actually having fun with Hermione, and he could have sworn he'd seen her smile. But that couldn't be right. She's been kidnapped; she isn't going to be happy here no matter what.

* * *

Hermione had done it; she'd tricked Draco into doing just what she wanted him to do! Now that they were outside, she was positive she could run and take shelter in the thick of the forest behind the Manor. Then, she could wander… Maybe she'd find someone, or _something_, that could help her get back to Hogwarts safely. Evading spells in the forest would be easy enough, and the trees were dense enough that it would take Malfoy hours to find her, and she was sure he didn't have that much patience.

Malfoy turned her back to her for a split second, and that's when she made her move. With incredible dexterity for her cold and numb fingers, she ripped the blades off of her ice skates and ran. She didn't look back, not even when she heard Draco calling angrily after her.

"GET BACK HERE!" he shouted. Then he paused for a split second, he must have gotten his wand out.

"I'M WARNING YOU MUDBLOOD, I'LL KILL—"

And then she heard the crack. The deafening, terrible crack of a curse headed straight in her direction.

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**To be continued.**

**A/N2: Was that an evil cliffhanger? D: I'm sorry. Oh, not really. I just want you all to keep reading. ;D Reviews of any kind are very much appreciated! ^_^**


	5. Bittersweet

**A/N: Hey all! Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! They really motivate me to keep writing! In this chapter there will be some Dramione references, and even more in coming chapters. Anyways, on with the chapter!**

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**The Monster's Souvenir: Chapter Five**

Hermione was no more than two feet away from the first tree of the forest when she had raised her arms to shield her head, ducking and bracing herself for impact. But it never came. Hesitantly, she turned around, and saw the real source of the crack.

It wasn't a curse.

The ice beneath Draco's feet had broken, sending him into fifteen feet of icy water. His arms were flailing in the air; he couldn't get his head above the water. If Hermione didn't do something, he'd surely drown.

The world stopped as Hermione contemplated her options. She could run right now and let Draco die, like he would do to her. Should she refuse to be that weak? In the forest, was there any guarantee that she would make it back to Hogwarts safely without freezing to death in the woods?

Her feet acted before her mind had finished weighing the options. She had turned her back on the sanctuary of trees to save the boy who thought she was worth nothing; to save the boy who had tormented her throughout her entire life and who hated her more than anything. If that wasn't Gryffindor courage, she didn't know what was.

She got as close as she possibly could without risking her own life and held out her arm. She took hold of his hand, but it slipped from her grip. The broken ice was as jagged and sharp as broken glass, and her forearm sliced open against it, reddening the crystal surface.

Hermione leaned closer, risking her own safety and pulling on his wrist with all the force she could muster. It was enough for Draco's head to emerge from the icy depths, sputtering and gasping for air. His normally pale ivory face had turned blue.

"Draco! You've got to help me! Pull yourself up!" She cried to him, pulling still. Once again, he was slipping from her grasp, but this time, Hermione refused to let go. She dug her nails into his forearm and pulled harder still. She cried out in pain as her fingernails felt like they were going to be ripped from her fingers.

Once Draco had been able to breathe properly, he did indeed try to help her by throwing himself onto the broken ice. However, this had the same effect as it had Hermione's arm, and the razor-sharp ice cut clean through his shirt and sliced his gut. Surprisingly, Draco didn't even seem to notice the wound.

After what seemed like ages, Hermione somehow managed to pull Draco safely onto solid ground, but she didn't have any time to rest. His entire body was an eerie blue and he was having trouble staying awake.

"Draco, keep your eyes open!" She shouted, slapping him lightly on the face in an attempt to keep him awake. "Stay awake!" Draco's eyes opened halfway, glazed and unfocused, but at least he was awake.

Looking back on it, Hermione would have no idea how on earth she managed to practically carry Draco all the way back into the house and scream for the house-elves. Unfortunately, she had no power over any of them and they refused to show themselves, so it was entirely up to her.

She literally ripped the soaking wet clothes from Draco's body, but let him hold on to his last shred of dignity by keeping his boxers on him. (Not that it would matter, since they were practically transparent from being soaked.)

She ran to the nearest bedroom, which happened to his own, and ripped the blankets from the bed and from her makeshift bed on the floor. She managed to sprint back to him and wrap him carefully in an attempt to warm him.

_If only I had a wand…. That's it! Draco's wand!_

She searched frantically through his clothing until she found it, the long length of wood that to a muggle would be nothing but a twig. But it wasn't just a twig, it was a savior.

Just as she was about to cast the warming charm, Draco's eyes had closed. "NO!" She screamed at him, forcing his eyelids open with her fingertips. He remained unresponsive.

"WAKE UP! WAKE UP RIGHT NOW!" She screamed, and performed a very heavy warming charm in the hopes that it would wake him up.

After a few long moments, the color returned to his face, and Draco's eyes jerked open. His head turned to the side and he coughed out an impossible amount of water. How he had kept himself from drowning with all that in his lungs was a miracle.

Hermione cried out in relief, throwing her arms around him as though he were her best friend.

"Gerroff!" he coughed out and pushed her away from him. Hermione's face reddened sheepishly and she pulled away.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, shaking now. Whether it was from the excess amount of adrenaline pumping through her blood or the fact that her clothes were soaked with icy water she didn't know.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I think..." he replied weakly, and his eyes widened a bit at the deep cut on her forearm. "You're arm… What happened?"

"It's fine I just cut it on the ice, your stomach got cut as well. The house-elves can fix that, can't they?" She asked him, keeping a close watch on his face to make sure it remained pink instead of blue.

He nodded shakily. "I'm fine, don't be worried. I'm okay," he said. Hermione could tell that he was reassuring himself as well as her, but it didn't matter. Not now.

She had been _so close. _She almost had a chance of getting out with her life. She almost escaped, but now she was back in Hell, counting the days until she stopped being useful and Lucius would surely kill her. She was marked for death yet again.

"I'm okay," he said again.

"But I'm not!" She cried, and immediately, her face crumbled as though she'd just betrayed a terrible secret. Along with it, her last dam of self-control shattered, and she was helpless to stop the tears that were streaming down her face.

"I'm not okay, Draco! I'm as good as dead here and we both know it! I never had the chance to say goodbye to anyone! I was never given a chance to decide! I've done everything right in my lifetime and none of it even matters!" Hermione buried her face into her hands, sobbing and hiccupping. "What did I ever do to him?"

* * *

Draco placed his hand on Hermione's shoulder. The friendly and sympathetic gesture surprised them both, and the skin on Hermione's shoulder raised into goose bumps under his cold fingertips.

She could have left him to drown and run away from the Manor. He'd never done anything that made him worth saving, but she saved him anyway. There was no doubt about it: Draco was now in Hermione's debt. And he'd been raised to take debts seriously.

"You'll… you'll make it out of here alive… Hermione," he promised her, not quite sure he could follow through with it. But he would try, and he would do everything in his power. Hermione had saved him from death, now he had to return the favor.

She whipped around immediately, looking at him with wide eyes. Tears still flowed freely down her face. Draco held the cocoon of blankets open, offering her some warmth. Apparently, Hermione had thought he meant to hug her, for her eyes closed and she threw her arms around him again.

The cold wetness of her clothes against his bare chest made him shudder, but even so, he closed his arms around her as well, burying his face in her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Her body was still shaking with silent sobs, but still, something about holding her in his arms felt incredibly right.

They stayed like that for awhile, arms around each other, not saying a word. Finally, Hermione sniffled and pulled away, wiping her eyes. "Thank you…" she said weakly. He tried his best to smile in response. He really hoped that he hadn't a made a promise he couldn't keep.

"You should get the cut on your stomach looked at…" she said, tentatively touching it. He sucked in his breath at the terrible stinging, how could he have not noticed to before?

Draco called the house-elves, who looked shocked and horrified at the sight of their master. The two elves healed both of their cuts with ease, and after getting orders from Draco to have their lunch ready in his bedchambers in an hour, they bowed and disapparated.

"You should take a hot bath," Hermione told him, finally standing. Draco stood as well, his knees ached horribly, like he hadn't used them in years. A nice, hot bath sounded heavenly.

"Alright, you should take one too..." He said, and she looked genuinely surprised. "Err, not at the same time as me or anything! That's not what I meant!" He backtracked in a stammering voice. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to think he was like his father.

A shadow of a smile made itself present on her face and she took a step forward. "A nice bath- alone- sounds nice," she teased. Even Draco's most-practiced scowl wasn't enough to hide his awkward blush.

* * *

Hermione stretched out in the large, porcelain bathtub. It had been a week since she'd last bathed, but her hair felt like it had been properly washed in a month. The tub was filled with bubbly, foaming soap that smelled an odd but relaxing mixture of lavender and fresh linen.

Her collar still hung around her neck, no matter how hard she'd tried to remove it for bathing. It couldn't be removed without a special charm, it seemed, for every time she pulled at the ribbon it began to glow in an eerie manner.

Once, when Hermione was younger, Hermione had read about a condition called Stockholm Syndrome, in which a victim starts to feel an emotional attachment to their victimizer. Hermione seriously wondered if that is what had just happened, when she had her arms wrapped around Draco. It felt good to hug him, but she didn't think it should.

Self-doubt nagged at Hermione's brain.

_What if I am suffering from Stockholm Syndrome? Will I start to feel loyalty to Lucius Malfoy? Given the chance, would I try to escape from this place? Would I want to stay here?_

She thumped the already-tender back of her head against the rim of the tub. The gentle sloshing of the water was making her increasingly sleepy.

_It must have taken a lot out of me to save Malfoy from a watery grave._

She washed her hair as quickly and thoroughly as she could and stepped out of the tub onto the dark green bathmat. A sudden thought occurred to her, she didn't have any clean clothes to change into.

She loathed the thought of having to ask Draco if she could borrow some of his clothes, but she really didn't have a choice, did she? Unless she wanted to change back into the clothes she was wearing before. She eyed the dirty undergarments with distaste.

A sudden knock on the door snapped her to attention.

"What's taking so long Hermione?" Draco called in, his voice filled with terribly faked annoyance and irritably, with a barely perceivable undertone of concern.

Even though Hermione knew Draco couldn't see her, she still blushed an unhealthy shade of scarlet at her current predicament. Here she was, dripping wet and completely naked, in the middle of her former-worst-enemies' bathroom.

"I don't have anything to change into," she told the door quietly.

A bark of laughter sounded on the other side of the door. Hermione's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Well, excuse me! But I didn't exactly have the chance to pack my bags!" she snapped, but found herself fighting a smile as well.

"Okay, there is a bathrobe in the closet by the sink," he said breathlessly, still laughing to himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes, even knowing he couldn't see the carefully executed mocking. "Which sink?"

_Spoilt, rich, arrogant, ass._

"The one on the left. Put it on and hand me your dirty clothes, I'll give them to the house elves to wash. Until then, you can wear some of mine."

"I can?" she asked him, genuinely surprised.

"Trust me, Granger," he said with another laugh. "The last thing I want is to see you naked."

_He's different than his father then, _she thought as she opened the closet to find extra towels and a long, silver-colored bathrobe. She pulled on the article to find that it was fashioned with incredibly soft plush material. Never before did she appreciated how much taller Draco really was compared to her. The robe dragged at least four inches on the ground behind her.

She adjusted the sash as tight as possible, but even so, there was a very real and very dangerous possibility that the loose front of the robe could fall open.

_At least he'd find it repulsive._

She collected the heap of her dirty clothes, opened the door, and stepped out of the bathroom with a puff of steam.

* * *

When Hermione left _his_ bathroom wearing nothing but _his _bathrobe, smelling entirely like _his _soap, another unexplained wave of possessiveness shot through his blood like a lightning bolt. The small silver charm still hung around her neck, saying that did, indeed, belong to him.

_She won't belong to me forever._

Draco was still contemplating the reason why that thought disappointed him when Hermione cleared her throat quietly and held out her worn clothes to him. Swallowing hard, he took them from her and called Felda to take them away.

He rummaged through a chest of drawers until he came across a big tee shirt and some boxer shorts and gave them to Hermione to change into.

She gave him a weak smile as she took them and went back into the bathroom to change, closing the door behind her. He heard the faint click of the lock.

* * *

Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror after she'd changed into Draco's clothes. The shirt absolutely swallowed her; it went down nearly to her knees, covering up the boxer shorts entirely. Draco had never been accused of being blocky in the least, but even so, she had to roll the waistband of the shorts four times to ensure that they wouldn't fall down. And they were still loose.

The clothes smelled overwhelming like Draco, as bittersweet and intoxicating as the first rain of the spring. Against her will or not, Hermione found the hem of the large shirt pressed against her nose, inhaling deeply with her eyes closed. Did Draco know how addicting his own scent was?

Last year, Hermione had buried her face in Ron's shoulder after they were safe from the Department of Mysteries. She remembered that his smell was less-than-inviting, but she had assumed that it was from sweat and blood, and nearly dying. Now, as Draco's very smell sent an unusual stab of longing through her, she wondered if it was because she wasn't attracted to Ron. But then again, she wasn't attracted to Draco, either.

When she left the bathroom, she found Draco asleep in his bed, nestled under the blankets comfortably with a peaceful expression on his face.

_He must be as exhausted as I am. _

Silently as possible, as not to wake him, Hermione made her way over to her makeshift bed on the floor. The blankets were still very damp and cold from when she wrapped them around Draco in an attempt to warm him, but she tried her best to get comfortable anyway.

"You could sleep up here, if you wanted to," Draco sleepily, surprising Hermione.

"I thought you were already asleep," she said. She made no effort to move from her spot. She wasn't sure if she felt comfortable with sharing a bed with Draco. The less-than-appealing blankets under her protested.

"Not quite yet," he said, though he was obviously very close to sleep. "Come on, you'll get my clothes all wet."

Hermione nodded and slid into the large bed beside him. She'd never felt anything so soft in her life. Not even the beds at Hogwarts could compare to the mattress under her, or to the silk blankets above her. She wasn't facing Draco, but she could tell that he was facing her; watching her.

Even so, she drifted into a peaceful and well-deserved sleep.

* * *

**To Be Continued.**

**Reviews (as always!) are very much appreciated! They make my day! No joke. Until next time, enjoy!**


	6. Kisses and Collars

**A/N: I am so, genuinely sorry for the hideous amount of time it's been since my last update! If a person could honestly recieve howlers, I fear I might be deaf by now. Thank you to all the people who reviewed the last chapter! Like I said, I throw a mini-party every time I get one. So, one job, F on a math test, and school suspension later, here it is! The next chapter of the series!**

**RATED M. Draco's bed is quite a big part of this chapter ;D**

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**The Monster's Souvenir: Chapter Six**

Hermione had only ever been kissed twice in her life. Once when she was eight, behind the jungle gym by a young muggle boy named John who was in her class at school, and then again at the Yule Ball by Viktor Krum.

Even though she lacked the proper experience to judge, she was absolutely certain that Draco was an outstanding kisser. His tongue was expertly stroking her mouth in all the right places, and every now and then he'd suck on her tongue just barely, sending shock waves that she couldn't explain through her body.

As she weaved her slender fingers through his silky blonde hair, she forgot all about Stockholm Syndrome and Lucius Malfoy, she forgot about being kidnapped and taken away. Right now, this moment and this kiss belonged to her, and the world would start turning again soon and things would be as bad as they ever were, but right now, she didn't care.

A soft moan escaped her lips as his tongue continued to tease her, and something in Draco seemed to snap at the sound, because he pulled her tightly against him and got half on top of her, kissing her with a new ferocity that frightened her.

She whimpered, and Draco pulled away immediately, looking into her eyes and caressing her cheek softly. "Did I hurt you?" He whispered. He asked it with so much caring that Hermione had never seen before. "If you want me to stop…I will, I'm sorry," he said. That reassurance was enough for Hermione's fried nerves, and she simply smiled and kissed him again.

This time Draco groaned against her lips, causing another one of those wonderful shock waves to go through her body. What was he doing to her?

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back, allowing him to break their kiss and move his. He caressed her forehead and cheeks with hot, open-mouthed kisses, the slightly rough surface of his tongue sending pinpricks of pleasure through her entire body.

"Ohhh, Draco…" she murmured, arching her back against his kisses. She felt a sudden emptiness in her very core, and she was at a loss as to how to fill it.

"Hermione," he whispered back, his left thumb barely brushing over the curve of her breast while his right was busy holding her lower back impossibly close to his. Hermione sighed and unintentionally ground her hips against his. Nothing in the world should have felt so wonderful.

Draco moaned loudly at this contact and collapsed his head into the crook of her shoulder, using both hands to hold her hips now. "Hermione…please don't touch me like that," he pleaded, and Hermione blushed scarlet, suddenly embarrassed beyond measure. Had she done something wrong?

"I… I don't want to go too far with you, and I don't think I could stop myself if you did that again," he explained, planting more soft kisses on her lips. He shifted his weight slightly and Hermione felt a hard length poking into her though.

Hermione suddenly understood everything, but still found it nearly impossible to stop. It was like her body developed a mind of its own.

"I'm sorry," she whispered breathily, running her hands over his shoulders for the thousandth time. He captured her mouth in another soul-searing kiss, and Hermione thanked God she was laying down, because she was certain her legs would have refused to carry her through this madness.

A loud growl startled both of them and broke the kiss. Panting, the two looked around for the cause of the noise. Only when it occurred again did they realize that it was his stomach. Or hers. Or both.

"I am hungry," they whispered in unison, and gave each other silly grins in response.

Their kisses, along with the mood, had been broken, so the two settled on asking the house elves for food. Neither one wanted to leave the comfort of Draco's bed. It was only a moment's time before hot soup and cold cider were sitting in front of them.

Not much was said as they ate, but Hermione did notice that Draco was acting slightly more domestic towards her. Every now and then it would seem like he meant to hold her hand, but as soon as their fingers brushed, he pulled away, nervous.

She might have reassured him, or even taken the reins and took his hand first, but as it was she was having a hard time keeping her own emotions under control. She didn't exactly understand what had just happened between them, but she wanted to beg him to never do it again, because she didn't know how to control herself when it was happening. At the same time, she wanted to plead with him to do it again soon because she never knew she could feel so wonderful.

It took more self-control than Hermione would like to admit to hold her spoon without shaking hot soup onto her own lap.

Finally he broke the silence. "Hermione… about what just happened," he started, staring at something of obvious interest to him at the bottom of his glass of cider. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to... do that..." His cheeked were flooded with scarlet, starting in his cheeks and ending somewhere on the top of his scalp.

"Don't apologize!" Hermione said, a bit too quickly. He looked at her and locked her gaze. Reflected in the icy depths of his eyes were something Hermione had seen a million times, but she never once would have thought she'd see it in Draco Malfoy's: love.

She took a deep breath and leaned in closer to him. "You don't have to apologize to me… for anything, Draco," she amended. "Not anything you have done in the past, and not anything your father has done within the past week. None of this is your fault."

With another ounce of bravery she never knew she had, she reached up to touch Draco's face, slightly surprised when he leaned into her caress, slowly shutting his eyes. How long had it been since someone touched Draco without the intention of causing him harm?

Draco was starved of affection his entire life. Hermione would never know how that felt.

"Hermione," he whispered, "I don't deserve this."

Hermione closed the gap between them again, kissing Draco, slowly wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt moisture running down her cheeks, but whether it was her tears or his she didn't know, and honestly didn't care.

Draco stood up and led her over to the bed, all the while planting feather-light kisses on her lips, leaving her aching for more. He laid her down and moved his kisses down her jawline, but when he went to kiss her neck, the collar around Hermione's neck began to glow eerily again. He drew back to look at it.

"Why did you stop?" Hermione asked, breathless.

"The collar…it's—" he started, reaching up to touch it. As soon as he made contact, a deafening crack sounded from nowhere and Draco was thrown across the room and into a bookcase.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, only now noticing the burning around her neck. She cried out and clawed at the collar, trying hard to rip it away to no avail. Draco regained his breath and hurried over, and he gasped when he saw the blistering flesh around her neck.

"What's happening?" Hermione whimpered, still trying to pull the burning piece of cloth away from her neck. Draco managed to run to the bathroom and get a cool, wet rag. He carefully pulled the collar up some, ignoring that it was burning his fingers, and pressed the article of relief against Hermione's neck.

"Shhh," he whispered softly, pressing the towel against the red, angry flesh. The necklace had stopped glowing and was no longer a threat. "It's okay, I'll call the house-elves and they'll fix it, okay?"

She nodded as Draco handed the rag over to her.

Neither one noticed that the collar had changed, ever so slightly.

* * *

**A/N2: Who else besides me REALLY wants a piece of Draco Malfoy? Mmm. (I'd settle for Tom Felton any day.)**

**Reviews, as always, are much appreciated! **


	7. The Unthinkable

**A/N: I am SOOOOO sorry for the hideously long time between updates. If you didn't know, I've been working on my own original novel, so I've been quite busy with that. I'm sorry! Please forgive me!**

**The Monster's Souvenir: Chapter Seven**

Another day passed, and although the "relationship" that Hermione and Draco had did not progress, it didn't diminish either. He had kissed her once more, and made an obvious point of sleeping so close to her that she could feel his heart beating against her back and his nose in her hair. When she'd tried to move it to make Draco more comfortable he simply put it back wordlessly.

_As if anyone could like anything about MY hair!_

The two presently were on a bench that sat in one of Draco's bedroom windows, overlooking a breathtaking landscape that was the Malfoy property.

"There's so much room to run," Hermione whispered, unintentionally voicing her concerns of freedom in an innocent comment. Almost instantly after passing her lips, Hermione choked up, fighting back against the lump forming in her throat.

"I guess," he replied nonchalantly, eyes drifting lazily over the scene. "You'd think it'd be a child's dream, having so much space." Hermione wondered how he remained oblivious to her panic. Maybe he wasn't.

"I never much cared for the outdoors," Hermione said, turning her attention to the boy next to her. His eyes reflected the snow-covered forest in front of him. "I always had my books," she said, gently smiling at old memories of him. He'd always gotten onto her for being a bookworm.

"I used to love the outdoors," Draco replied, the shadow of a smile on his face. He scooted in closer to her, the cushion on the bench dipping just a bit under his shifted weight, causing Hermione to scoot closer as well. He wound his arm around her waist rather domestically. Hermione fought the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Used to?"

The smile disappeared from his face as he turned to look into her questioning eyes. "Everything can be conditioned out of a person," he replied flatly.

Her heart ached for this boy; this boy who'd seen too much and knew too much to back away from. Hermione knew he'd be a valuable asset to the Order, but she also knew that having him blatently betray his father wouldn't be something he'd easily agree to.

Kissing a muggle-born in the dark was something entirely different than slapping his father across the face.

A sudden thought occurred to Hermione, and really without even thinking she blurted out: "Why don't you have any pets?" The look he gave her made Hermione want to laugh out loud, but she didn't want to scare him into silence.

"I had an owl, once, when I was eleven," he said.

"What happened to it? Flew away?" She asked, leaning in slightly closer unconsciously. She liked being near to him.

"No," he said, an emotion flickering across his face that Hermione couldn't identify, "My father said it was useless, so…"

Hermione cut him off with a gasp. "He killed it?" she asked, stunned. Honestly she didn't know why she was surprised, he'd shown worse expressions of evil just since she'd been there.

"He made _me _kill it. With the Curse," he ammended. Hermione was frozen in disbelief. "He thought it would be good… practice. For, you know, when… _he_… came back."

She didn't need to ask who _he_ was. Voldemort.

"This isn't what you want, Draco," she whispered. He looked at her like she was crazy. "I know you don't want to be like your father," she whispered, noticing his eyes drift unintentionally to his unmarked left arm. "There is so much you could do to help end this war."

He let go of her waist and looked away from her. "You're wrong," he said. Hermione could tell he didn't mean it. "This is what I want."

"No it's not!" She said back, her vision starting to blur.

"You don't know anything about me! Stop acting like you know everything! YOU DON'T!" He shouted. Hermione flinched away, tightly closing her eyes. There was a long moment of silence in which all that could be heard was small whimpers and sobs from Hermione and Draco's heavy breathing. Finally he hesitantly touched her face, and felt like he'd been just been slapped as she flinched away.

"Why can't I be mad at you?" He whispered, utterly confused. Anger was an emotion he was familiar with; an emotion he knew how to use. The feeling of his blood boiling in his veins was a rush, one of the few things that made him feel _human_; one of the few things that made him feel anything at all. He didn't understand why Hermione suddenly made it so difficult for him, or why his heart suddenly ached with regret for the terrible things he'd done in the past.

"I'm sorry," he whispered sadly, using both hands to gently coax her into looking straight at him. Her dark amber eyes were filled with sadness and hurt, and Draco didn't understand why he felt like he was dying inside.

"No, you're not," she whispered. As mildly as she said it, it hurt Draco so badly that it nearly killed him. He felt sick to his stomach, his head was aching, and his blood felt like it was freezing in his skin.

Draco soon realized that he wasn't imagining things as he started to shiver. He looked at Hermione, who looked like she was having trouble breathing, and she too was shaking, whether from cold like him or from something else he didn't know.

"What's happening?" he asked, his voice impossibly weak.

"I don't know," she said, "I just… need to be happy with you. I need _us _to be happy together."

She voiced what he was already thinking, and without much thought at all he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, and in an instant reaction, his blood warmed, his stomach felt fine, and his head no longer ached. He couldn't explain it, but there was something connecting him to Hermione, and it seemed that the connection wouldn't allow them to upset one another, as they just had done.

Just when Draco had decided he rather liked kissing Hermione Granger, the unthinkable happened.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

Cold, slow, and calculating, Lucius spoke barely above a whisper, though his words seemed to echo through the room like a burst of thunder. Draco looked to his father, then looked to Hermione, who's eyes had gone wide and her breath had hitched.

Draco's heart was pounding in his ears as Lucius quickly strode over to them, taking Hermione by the hair and yanking, hard. She yelped. His gut lurched painfully.

"Father, please—" He began, but was abruptly cut off as a gloved hand came crashing down on his face, a back-handed slap so hard that he was knocked backwards and off of the windowsill.

"I'll deal with you later," he hissed, the venom in his voice lingering dangerously somewhere between being livid and ready to kill. He gulped, and watched as his father pulled Hermione by the hair out of his bedroom.

* * *


End file.
